Don't Tell Harley
by 0Life-is-a-Song0
Summary: How would you cope if you felt your sanity slowly fall away, layer by layer, until you were someone totally different? You aren't really you anymore. Right and wrong? Gone. How do you survive with The Joker pulling your chains? Simple. You don't. SEQUEL
1. Excitment

**So, here's the sequel I was raving about. Hope you enjoy, kiddos. **

**Reviews are my cocaine, by the way. **

* * *

_**Day One**_

The Joker licked his chapped lips as he looked up at the ceiling. It was the only place he could look, really. The way they had chained the straight jacket to his bed, he couldn't move his neck very well, if at all. Apparently, slamming your head against the wall in excitement made you a danger to yourself.

_"Just a precaution." _Dr. Arkham had told him. The Joker chuckled as he remembered the twisted look on the head doctor's face. He was fascinated but afraid at the same time. Who wouldn't be? They had scrubbed and scrubbed at his face for as long as they could, but the paint had never fully come off. It was like the oils of it had soaked into his skin, and now his face was slightly paler, the eyes had a dark shadow all the way around them and the area around his lips was tinged red. His scars still stretched hideously across his cheek bones, and the dye was still at the ends of his now shaggy hair.

"Still the same." He muttered, grinning brightly as he looked at the tile right next to the one he had been staring at. They could change what he wore, they could _try_ to change how he thought, but they could never change the stench of fear that surrounded them whenever they dared to glance in his eyes. You couldn't fake raw, honest _fear_ that crept out through your pores and soaked up into the air.

"Hey… freak… breakfast time." The guard stepped into his room, holding a tray. His uniform was neat and tidy, stretched taut against his muscles as he set down the food. The tray was Styrofoam and the utensils were flimsy plastic. The food was easily chewable, soft and mushy, almost like baby food.

Gross.

"Ah, another day, another intelligent insult. Say, want to hear one of mine?" The Joker asked, amused as the guard ignored him and began undoing the straight jacket and recuffing his wrists.

"I'll tell it anyway, it was always uh, a uh, real knee slapper." He grinned vaguely as he noticed that the guard ignored him, but his head was turned slightly in The Joker's direction, as if too scared to fully turn away. It was so easy to use someone who feared what would happen if they didn't listen.

"You see, there was once this murderer on the loose… and he was what you'd call a loose hinge. He ah, he wasn't very pop-u-lar with anyone. So, as he's walking down the ally, de-jec-ted he sees a little boy… and he's overcome with joy.

'Little boy,' he says, 'I'm going to kill you.' And you want to know what that little boy did?" The Joker leaned in, as if sharing a big secret. "He stabbed the man! He jumped up and over and over and over again he shoves the knife into the man's chest, laughing the entire time." Laughing, The Joker fell back against his chair, kicking at the air with mirth. "And- and to have everyone remember who did the b-e-a-utiful deed, the little boy carved a smile into the big, baD, thug's face. Now, the big baD murderer always smiles, twenty- four seven, six feet under, courtesy of the little boy." The Joker giggled.

"What does that have to do with anything, freak?" The guard growled. The Joker frowned at how slow his little friend was on the uptake.

"Isn't it ironic?" The Joker asked smugly. "The big bad mad man gets killed by the little boy!" Laughing demonically, The Joker rocked back against his chair, letting the chains dig into his skin. "It's like the relationship between me and you."

"Oh, really now? I don't see how, freak." The guard took his station at the door while he watched The Joker with still expressionless eyes.

"Well, I may be chained up now, but sooner or later," The Joker leaned in, his dark eyes burning with sudden demonic intensity, "You'll be smiling twenty-four seven, six feet under, too."

* * *

Harley looked into the bathroom mirror and smiled, liking what she saw. Her bright blond hair was pulled back into a bun, with a pen sticking out of it; her makeup was on just right, not a smudge or streak of mascara mucked up her looks. Her smile was set into a perfectly amiable one; not too happy, not too fake.

Everything was perfect.

Sliding her glasses onto the bridge of her nose, Harley gave one last look at herself before turning around and walking into the dank hallways of the Arkham Asylum. The darkness and gloom didn't seem to bother her too much; it was like she took no notice of the grime and gloom.

"Hey Dr. Quinn, are you excited?" Another psychologist asked mockingly as she walked past a small group of them. Harley merely smiled smugly in return and kept walking. She knew she was going to get a lot of flack for wanting to take on the case of the century, but nothing could stop her now.

She would keep The Joker case if it was the last thing she did.

"Good morning Dr. Arkham!" She chirped brightly as she waltzed into the staff room, bright and alert. The only thing that could put a damper on her spirits was if she suddenly was kicked off of the case. Considering how everyone knew she was competent enough for it, she wasn't worrying.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinn. I trust you're ready for this?" Dr. Arkham had been the one to actually call the main victim of The Joker attacks this go-around to see if she'd like to come in and see if Harley was up for it. Not that she begrudged the man any; he was simply doing his job. Harley had seen the minor psychiatrists go in and out of that cell like it was a revolving door; only one had gone back a second time, and that was to reluctantly run in to grab the clip board he had left behind in his fear.

"I don't think I'll ever be truly ready, sir, but I'm as good as it's going to get." Harley replied easily as she grabbed her cup of coffee. As she sipped it slowly, she rearranged the packets of sugar in the small bowl so that the splenda was together, the fat free was together, and the simple sugar was together. She hated it when people put things out of order. Order was one thing that Harley strived for.

"I like to hear that, Dr. Quinn, I really do. Others have gone in with a Mr. Fix-it attitude and all of them have left empty handed. It is my wish that you don't end up the same way. Analyze professionally, comment calmly, and don't give him the opening he needs. I assure you, Dr. Quinn, once he's in your head, he'll never get out. Men like The Joker… they're an entirely different specimen than a simple mad man. Don't attempt to understand him, but don't underestimate him." Dr. Arkham leveled his gaze with hers.

"I'll do my best, sir." She replied calmly though his words sent a slight trill of warning through her veins. She had seen the horrors that The Joker had wreaked both inside a person's mind, and on their appearance. There was no way she would end up like them; she was made of something tougher than that.

She hoped.

"That's all we can ask of you. In fact… Harley, if I can see that you can handle this professionally… I don't see why you can't be in charge underneath me." Dr. Arkham smiled slightly at that.

Harley froze from taking her drink at these words. Shock rippled throughout her entire system, and as she looked back at Dr. Arkham, she was sure she saw the lights shimmering above his balding head. She would be Vice President of Arkham Asylum?!

Oh… there was no way she was failing now.

* * *

_"Don't shoot him." _

_"Why not?"_

_"It's what he wants you to do. Shoot him, and you're nothing better than what he wants you to be."_

_"You stupid bat, can't you see she already is?"_

Alyss shot up from her bed, her eyes wide with surprise. Her heart was beating painfully in her chest, and she was positive that it wasn't a coincidence that her breathing was ragged and her throat dry. Looking around the large and dark room, she let the normalcy of it calm her nerves before she lay down and pulled the thick covers up and over her.

She hated nights like this. She hated nights when he would be gone until the early hours of the morning before collapsing onto the bed and not waking up until much later. Alyss had used to think that it would be amazing to go out with Gotham's chance at a finally safe and uncorrupt city, but it was only amazing as long as she was with him to enjoy it.

But he was hardly there.

Opening her eyes again, Alyss concluded that she wasn't going to get much sleep. Her heart was still thudding a little too loudly in her chest, and as she closed her eyes again, a picture of The Joker jumped out at her, his eyes crazed and dark, the makeup crudely spread across his face. It was enough to awaken painful memories.

It had been about 3 months since the whole incident with The Joker and his desire to put an end to Alyss. Winter was beginning to set in, and other people were forgetting about the horrors he had given them to ponder on. It wasn't like it had been targeted to them this time.

Crawling out of bed, Alyss padded quietly down the hallway of the newly improved manor and into one of the mini kitchens that was stocked with her favorite midnight snacks; a snickers bar. As she flicked on the lights in the kitchenette, Alyss almost jumped out of her skin when she saw someone hunched over the small table. As she peered closer though, it was much to her relief and surprise that it was only Drake, a vibrant and hard working cop by day and Batman's only "sidekick" by night.

"What are you doing here, Drake?" Alyss asked tiredly. Padding over to the fridge, she reached in and grabbed a snickers bar out of it so that she could indulge in one. Drake looked up and smiled at her before looking back down and fiddling with something. Peering closer, Alyss saw a newspaper article.

"_Gotham City is surprised and wary to find out that the vigilante called Batman has appeared to have found a "sidekick" if you will. People have dubbed him Robin by the flashy green, red, and yellow colors the man seems to favor. Is this trend of dressing in spandex spreading?_ Oh Drake you've got to be kidding me!" Alyss shook her head and burst into laughter as she looked at the picture of a blurry Drake in a stellar costume.

"In my defense, it's not spandex. I don't know where they came up with that, it's Kevlar." Drake muttered, face red. Alyss shook her head as she turned around and rummaged through the fridge before pulling out a snickers bar and handing it to him. Grimly, Drake accepted it and began eating, misery obvious on his face.

"So Batman said to keep a low profile?" Alyss asked kindly.

"When the media calms down I can go out again." Drake muttered, obviously upset.

"Well, look on the bright side… nothing big is happening anytime soon, right?"

* * *

Dr. Harley Quinn smiled as she adjusted her glasses on the bride of her nose. She was being given the case of a lifetime, and she could hardly contain herself. Excitement made her laugh slightly as she reached the door that would decide her destiny. Either she would become the greatest psychologist that walked the halls of Arkham, or she would leave the case behind, her head hung low. There could be no either alternative.

The guard nodded politely as she reached him, but as she reached for the door handle he grabbed her wrist and held it.

"Precaution." He informed her simply as he then pressed a few different keys, scanned his thumb, and then released her wrist.

"Thanks…" Harley muttered, embarrassed. Clearing her throat, she turned off the joking, relaxed Dr. Quinn others said they admired. She tucked away her memories so that he couldn't reach them, and she forced her eyes to glaze over in a professional disinterest. As she straightened her back, she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, wincing at the screeching noise the metal grating on metal made.

"Well hello, beautiful."

* * *

**Well, what'll happen next? I think it's kind of obvious, but for anyone interested in me continuing the sequel to Go Ask Alyss, just review and let me know.**


	2. Fear

**Haha, thanks for the reviews and author alerts/ story alerts guys. Awesome. made me smile, in fact.**

**Reviews are like puppies. They're oh so cute to see and bring a smile to your face. Even the violent pitbulls are appreciated.**

* * *

_**Day One**_

Harley inwardly gasped at the sight that met her. He was sitting in the chair, upright, hands clasped neatly in his lap as he stared. His greasy hair was only vaguely green and fell mostly to one side. The smear of colors had been scrubbed from his face to remove the, "war paint" but the oils had obviously sunk into the skin slowly, dying certain areas a faded color. His eyes were dark and observant as he stared right back at her openly. He didn't fidget, he didn't mumble or twitter like many insane patients. The only movement she could really note was that his tongue would dart out and lick his lips randomly.

His aura though; it was hardly describable. It was like stepping into a totally different atmosphere that revolved around The Joker. His madness settled onto the skin like there was too much moisture in the air, and the crazed anger that lurked in his gaze almost took her breath away. He really was a different form of being. What was she doing here? She wouldn't be able to handle someone with a stare like that; she would go insane! The way the cuffs seemed to hang loosely on his hands seemed to say, 'look, you can't keep me chained like this'. He could kill her and no one would find out until they came to see why she never left the room!

For a split second, Harley felt real fear.

"Well hello, beautiful." His voice was low pitched and sadistic, as if he knew that saying that would make the fear become a sick, metallic taste in the back of her mouth. The way he assessed her was like he was probing for a weakness, as if they were written out on her skin. Feeling defensive, Harley sat down and crossed her legs professionally; trying to gain back the confidence she had been feeling only moments ago. Had it really only been less than a minute ago that she had felt like conquering the world? Now, she felt small, insignificant.

"Good morning, Mr. Joker." Harley was surprised when her voice came out clear and strong, like she had everything under control. Looking briefly at his eyes, Harley could see that he had noticed the difference between the panic in her eyes and the strength of her voice. He licked his lips and raised an eyebrow.

"So I'm a Mr. Joker now? It seems like I've pulled up ranks. Who am I to thank for thaT?" He added inflection on the T sound, like he appreciated it. Jotting down a few minor notes on how he was behaving at first, Harley continued.

"Every person deserves to be treated respectfully, Mr. Joker, and using such titles is a sign of deference. I address each person I interact with respectfully, and I'd suggest you do the same." She informed him, once again surprising herself. Was it strange to be able to talk the talk, but if asked, there was no way to be able to walk the walk? If so, Harley had that down pact.

"So we're here to give orders and the liKe, are we?" The Joker lifted his wrists up, showing the cuffs. "Well, we've goT the equipment, doll face." Smiling from ear to ear, The Joker leaned back in his chair and lowered his head slightly so that he was looking up through his eye lashes at her. The way he stared gave her the creeps, and the fear that she had managed to keep at bay suddenly reared its ugly head. To distract herself from the mind consuming dread at his stare, she noted small, seemingly insignificant gestures he made. She would go back later and analyze them.

"Mr. Joker, my name is Dr. Harley Quinn." Her voice shook slightly as she said her name, but if The Joker noticed, he gave no indication. The reaction he suddenly gave was not from her obvious uneasy attitude, but from something else entirely. He raised an eyebrow and lifted his chin up, a large and twisted grin curling up. His eyes shined with mirth as he stared, and Harley felt uneasy underneath his gaze.

"Dr. Harley Quinn…" He muttered, bringing up his cuffed hands to trace his scars slightly. "Harley… Quinn… Harleyquinn. Harlequin. Oh, hahaha, that does seem to roll off the tongue." He grinned sadistically as he stared, a plan forming in his mind, though this action went unnoticed by the main character of the plan. Harley felt herself begin to blush, but she shook her head, not exactly understanding his reaction, or hers, for that matter.

"Excuse me?" She asked, baffled.

"Your name, sweet cheeks. It rolls off of the tongue… can't you tell? Or do they only teach meaningless things in that pathetic school of psychology? My little harlequin." He licked his lips and winked. "I'm going to have fun with thaT." Harley shook her head again and jotted down quickly, '_Prone to using words indicating possession.'_

"Something interesting I said, doc?" He asked, clearly amused at the blush that went from her throat up to her cheekbones. Looking up, Harley cleared her throat and suggested calmly, "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

At this comment, The Joker's face turned into one of twisted pleasure, as if he had heard the best joke in the world.

"What part does my little harlequin wish to know about?" The Joker pushed his chair back, lifting the front of the chair up with a screech and propped his feet up, showing off the metal chains wrapped securely around his ankles.

"My name is Dr. Quinn, Mr. Joker. I'm asking you to address me as such." Harley took a deep breath and tried to avoid the probing gaze that the mad man threw at her with a wicked glint in his eye.

"Does the way I say it offend you?" He asked with a slight growl in his voice. Harley repressed the shiver along her spine as his face turned into a snarl. "Does it m-make your skin CRAWL that I make you sound like a possession?" His face darkened as he suddenly let his chair slam back onto the ground and he lunged foreword, chained hands reaching towards her. "DO I SCARE YOU!?" He roared, his grin wide and twisting up sickeningly. The scars stretched against his skin and distorted the bottom half of his pale white face. Harley, startled, jumped back in her chair. Her eyes widened in fear and her lips quivered as the epitome of pure madness was attempting to crawl towards her.

"ANSWER ME!" He yelled; spit flying between red lips, his stained teeth bared in a snarl.

"N-n-no..." She stuttered, visibly shaking. Never before had she seen such an amount of pure rage directed at her. She had seen patients raving and screaming, but never in such control of what they said or did. The difference between The Joker and the other people in the asylum was that they didn't know what they were doing. They couldn't control it.

He could.

"That- well that's better, doll face." The Joker was suddenly back in his chair, his maniacal grin settling back into a complacent sneer. "Was that so hard?" His hands were clasped politely in his lap as he went back to surveying her with dark eyes. Harley took a deep breath as she tried to gain control of her emotions. Everything had happened so fast… it was hardly describable. It didn't help that his glare had her shaking, but the panic that was slowly settling into her system wasn't helping.

"Dr. Quinn?" The Joker was smiling. "Are you quite alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine. I would ask though, that you remain seated for the rest of the session?" Harley fought inwardly to gain control, but one glance to the wall behind him, and the metal reflected that she seemed composed again; sure of herself.

"Now, where were we?" She more asked herself. "Oh yes… what can you tell me about your childhood?" The Joker smiled and winked at her, much to her surprise.

"Harley girl, you got yourself together quick… I like that." He grinned. "For that, I'll tell you a little story… a story about my childhood, haha." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, as if trying to remember a good story.

"I… I was once a good kid." He began, his eyes still closed. "And, uh, I was always doing the, uh, righT thing. I lived with my uncle… my dad and mam had died. Well, he had a son… Charlie… and he… he didn't like that I was always doing right. Not. One. Bit. So, one day, I come home all happy and full of smiles… as always… and my cousin, Charlie, well, he is waiting at the dining room table… with a knife. 'Where's Uncle Thomas?' I asked, I was a high pitched child… not yet hit puberty if that helps... 'He's sleeping.' Charlie told me. When I saw his grin though… doll face, I got scared. My smile dropped off of my innocent… innocent face.

'Where'd that smile go?' Charlie asks, waving around the knife like a lunatiC. I was too scared to answer… I was struck with FEAR.'" The Joker suddenly lunged again, his grin in place as he grabbed Harley, both of them tumbling out of the chair and landing with him on top, straddling her. Harley gasped, her eyes wide as she felt his weight crushing against her chest, her breath coming out short and ragged.

"Much like you are now." The Joker breathed, his eyes black orbs as he leaned in closer to her face, baring his teeth. The Joker brought a pen up and held it dangerously close to her face. "Didn't they teach you…Harley girl… not to give me an opportunity?" He laughed softly, the sound rumbling against Harley's abdomen. Harley couldn't breathe; one of The Joker's hands was wrapped around her throat, squeezing the life from her windpipe.

"Answer me, little harlequin." The Joker held the pen closer to her face, and struggling for breath, Harley managed to squeak a, "Yes." Before he relinquished the hold he had on her neck. The pen moved though, down towards the main vein at the swell of her collar. It was then that Harley realized why he had lunged at her across the table; it was to get her pen. She felt horribly stupid. What was she thinking?

"Now… on with the story… so he comes at me, backing me against a wall, smiling the whole time. His eyes told me he would do it, and as he cut ribbons into my face, Harley-girl, he was laughing the whole time." Harley could feel her pulse rocketing, and she knew she was going into shock, but she was trying to rein in her panic anyway. It was hard to do so when he was so close to her, breathing in her face, holding her life in his murderous hands.

"Dr. Quinn… are you in there?" The Joker chuckled, and suddenly he was off her, pulling her up and setting her straight, fixing her jacket and tucking her askew glasses into her white coat pocket. The pen was also tucked in, right next to the glasses. Harley gasped for breath, her chest ballooning with the effort for more oxygen, and with a smirk, he leaned in, the cuffs back around his wrists.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh… there, there, no need to worry. This was all fun and games, wasn't it?" He smiled. Harley stared at him, still trying to gain back her lost pride and composure. The Joker stayed close up to her face, his eyes shining darkly, waiting patiently for her to say something.

"I-" She began, but faltered when she heard her choked voice. Forcing down the knot in her throat, she continued. "I… think the session is over for today." Turning around, she started to leave when she heard him chuckling, she sound towards the direction of his chair.

"See you tomorrow… doc."

* * *

As Harley walked into her office, she sat down with a dazed expression. Shuffling her papers, she didn't notice the man sitting in the chair across from her. As she ran her hands through her hair, she sighed in dismay about the rumbled and messed up style her hair had taken on. Setting down her files, she began fixing her hair when she glanced up and gave a sharp intake of breath when she realized someone was sitting in the chair.

"Can I help you?" She asked, irked that she hadn't noticed the man before. With a quick second glance, she could tell that Bruce Wayne was amused by her lack of observation.

"I understand that you've just met with The Joker, Miss Quinn?" Bruce asked kindly as she walked over to her mirror and fixed her hair, adjusting her shirt so that no one could see the bruises forming along her shirt line. Her back ached something sore, and she knew it would be worse in the morning.

"Yes, I have." Her answer was short, sweet, and to the point. She didn't feel like talking about The Joker to the playboy anyway. Why was it his business. Glancing back, Harley could see him watching her strangely, his face twisted between annoyance and worry. Glancing back to her reflection, Harley could see the slightly wild look in her eyes as she stared. Shaking her head, she turned back and smiled. "Why do you need to know?"

"Well… my girlfriend is Alyss-"

"Oh yes! I remember her. What a dear… is she ok?" Harley sat down at her desk and smiled sweetly. Bruce raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in attitude but shook his head.

"I was just wondering, for her sake, how today went. I wanted to reassure her." He grinned fondly, and Harley shook her head as she realized just how lost the infamous Mr. Wayne was with that girl. He was positively drooling!

"It went as well as can be expected. You understand though, that I can't disclose information. Patient doctor contract. I can't give away what was discussed, and it is sometimes even frowned upon to give an opinion on his diagnosis." Harley shook her head sadly. "All I can say is that it will take time to really delve into his mind without him getting into mine."

"I understand, Dr. Quinn." Bruce smiled and stood up slowly. "I'll just be leaving then." Harley reached over her desk and shook his hand, her grip firm, her in-between smile in place.

"I was a pleasure seeing you." She gushed before seeing him to the door. As he walked away, she felt relief. She really wanted to be alone.

"Dr. Quinn, how was it?" Dr. Arkham reached her just as she was about to close the door, and she inwardly ground her teeth at the intrusion to her peace.

"It was intense." She smiled and opened the door back up, letting him enter.

"Details, Dr. Quinn." Dr. Arkham nearly barked. Harley raised her eyebrows in surprise, but answered professionally. The sooner this was over with, the better.

"The patient is intelligent, quick minded, and clever. His demeanor is one of manipulation and intimidation. When he doesn't have attention, he becomes enraged, and prone to attempts to violence. I sense a multiple personality disorder, but I'll have to look into it to make a correct assumption. The way he interacted reminded me of a more violent side of someone who didn't get enough attention at home. He does things for attention." Harley gulped, remembering the way his eyes had burned as he tackled her to the ground. Well, that had gotten her attention.

"Very good." Dr. Arkham nodded with approval, but his face then turned grave. "The guard said that you seemed hassled when you left the cell. What exactly went on?"

"You were right, Dr. Arkham. You can think you're as prepared as you want, but it's a shock to the system to be in the same room with him." Harley laughed, but she made her eyes seemed troubled, much to Dr. Arkham's approval. He didn't want her thinking it was fascinating, he wanted her thinking it was an actual job; something that needed to be done for the right reasons.

"I understand. For that, I'm taking you off of all cases, except his. Based on the guard's assessment, I don't think you can handle as many cases as you're juggling already. It's either him or them." Dr. Arkham waited for the argument, but he was surprised when none came.

"As long as I can work The Joker case… I'm fine with it, sir."

* * *

Harley stared up at the ceiling, her forehead bathed in sweat. The fan blades slowly circulated above her head, but if she noticed, no one could tell. Her face was void of all emotion, save for the widened eyes as she pictured his face, over and over in her mind.

Light bruises had colored her neck slightly, and there was a red mark from where he had dug the pen into her skin, but she traced the light mark slowly, fascinated. Fear still clouded her mind, and she flinched as she pictured him lunging across the table at her, the hand cuffs flying off of his wrists. She shook her head, marveling at how he was able to pick the lock with her pen. The man was a pure genius. Psychotic, but pure genius.

Harley had looked over the reports on The Joker for hours after she had gotten home; memorizing the lines over and over again. She couldn't get enough of him. She had watched the tape of their encounter as well after coercing the guard to give it to her. No one would be allowed to know what had really happened between them. She would make sure of it.

In all of her analysis, Harley could only conclude one thing; she was both terrified and fascinated. The look on her face as she fell to the ground was one of mortification but excitement. Some part of her had expected this. Some part of her had wanted this.

The thought was terrifying as well.

_'Once he's in your head, he'll never get out'._

So that was it. It was simple really. Harley couldn't abandon her little project now, not with the way things were. She would literally either go mad or succeed with no questions asked. She knew one thing though; she couldn't leave. He was the itch in her skin as she turned over in her bed. He was her little project now, and though she knew she couldn't cure him, she would figure him out. There was no patient she hadn't reached somehow, and he would be no exception. She might as well accept the fact that he was in her head, and simply move on with it.

Because there was no way that he was leaving anytime soon.

* * *

**Oh dear I do love dramatics. And you would love to review, yes? Yes.**

* * *


	3. Insanity

**Thanks sooo much for your reviews!! They make me smile. **

**And I know, it seemed cheesy and thrown together to put Drake as Robin all randomly. But, I was trying to portray that through the course of the time they they had one common goal (save Alyss) that he kind of changed how he viewed things. So, haha, I dunno. Glad you people still like it!!**

**Reviews are like fohawks, only a few can pull it off even though everyone wants one.**

* * *

_**Day Two**_

The Joker smiled to himself as he stared up at his favorite ceiling tile. He had nothing better to do but smile up at the ceiling tile so that the nurse who "gave him the medication" wouldn't become suspicious. Honestly, waiting on his little toy was utterly **boring**.

Yes, The Joker claimed her. The moment he had learned her name, he knew she was his. The Joker and his harlequin. He liked the sound of that. Just seeing how she interacted was amusing, and it only made him stand by what he was going to do. The way she tried to stay so calm was almost… pitiful. The fact she didn't cry or scream was an utter insanity. But it was oh so attractive. Yes, it was safe to say that The Joker was interested.

In what he could make her into, that is.

He knew she had morals. She was a woman of order, a woman of integrity. He could tell that beneath her morals however, she was a loose cannon. Beneath the fearful eyes, he could see a monster, just waiting for him to open the gate. Really, the way her eyes tried to stay locked on his made his insides squirm with a desire to strike her, just to see if she'd laugh like he would. For a moment, she had returned the sick stare he had given many a dead man.

It made him greedy to think that she was so malleable, changeable. There was almost a hidden desire, begging him to ruin her picture perfect life. Her blue eyes seemed to scream that she wanted him to hurt her; she wanted him to make her life a living hell.

Oh yes, pushing her off of the edge would be entertaining indeed. At least it would give him something to do here. Sitting in a straight jacket all day, smiling vaguely was getting too repetitive. He wished she would hurry up.

"One… two… three… four…" He began counting in a lucid voice, smiling dazedly up as he pictured the way she had actually tried to compose herself. As if you could compose yourself after he nearly took your life! Not like he planned on taking it, he knew patience would win over desire. Honestly, he wanted to take the breath from her lungs, and would relish the day he could, but not now.

He could remember the look of eagerness to asses him. After repetition day after day after day, he had come to remember anything that was "out of the ordinary". It was, after all, his forte. She as too eager, too willing to delve into something she didn't understand. She wanted a trip on the dark side? He would give it to her. Before she died, that is. Yes, her death would be beautiful.

But now… he would play with his little harlequin. She had so much to offer, all she needed was a little nudge, and gravity would suck her down to his level.

He could hardly wait.

* * *

Alyss sat on the couch, her face bored as she flipped through channel after channel of shows. She hated sitting there; she hated doing nothing. Bruce would leave randomly, his face impassive as he muttered some lame excuse under his breath before leaving. She hated that; she thought they were past secrets.

It had been like this for awhile. Bruce didn't think she should be working when he had all the money they needed. Well… Alyss had never been brought up that way. She wasn't like the rich, she needed something to do!

"Bored…" She grumbled, switching past Scooby Doo and The Flintstones. Pausing at The Pink Panther, she began watching, but even the strange animal and stubby detective couldn't hold her attention.

"Nothing to do…" She mused, her face bleak as she stood up, stretching her muscles. Walking out of the living room in the manor, she flitted across the main hall, wincing at the cold of the marble floors against her bare feet. Grabbing the phone from the main hook, she quickly dialed her best friend's number.

"Hello?" The voice was light and happy as they answered, and Alyss had to smile, knowing that Sariah would want to hang out.

"Hey, what's up?" Alyss asked, her voice slightly bored. Sariah picked up on the emotion instantly, and gushed brightly, "Nothing, want to hang out now?"

Sariah and Alyss had a strange relationship. They had been friends since childhood, and even the death of Sariah's little sister, Bekka hadn't ended that, though at first Sariah had blamed Alyss for it. The Joker had meant the bomb in the car to be for Alyss, but Bekka had been the incidental target. Lost in her grief, Sariah had sold her friend out to The Joker, much to her own pain and regret. Even after betrayal, abduction, abuse, and injury, they were closer than ever.

"Please!" Alyss begged, jumping up and down in excitement. She couldn't bear to stay in Wayne manor a second longer.

"I'll meet you in thirty, at the mall, we're going shopping." Sariah ordered, and promptly hung up. Alyss grinned and then turned and sprinted down the halls and up the main staircase to the master bedroom, feeling childish. She dressed quickly in simple jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing her converse and running to the bathroom. Running a comb through her straight blond hair, she then applied simple underliner and mascara before deeming herself worthy for the outside world. As she skipped back to the stairs, she promptly settled herself on the banister and let herself slide down relishing in the feel of her hair flying back. It was good, wholesome adrenaline.

As she leaned foreword for the curve, Alyss nearly flew off of the banister entirely as Bruce Wayne came into view. His suit and tie ensemble was very attractive, but the look of annoyance on his face was not. Alyss flew off of the banister, and almost crashed into him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. Alyss laughed brightly before kissing him on the cheek and stating simply, "Going shopping."

"Oh…" Bruce gave her a funny look before shaking his head. "I thought we were spending time together today." Alyss stopped her smiling for a second and felt herself getting annoyed.

"Yeah, we were. But you had to split, so Sariah offered to take me shopping, which I agreed to. Because I'm bored." Alyss shook her head.

"Can you reschedule?" Bruce asked, eyes darkening. Alyss laughed slightly.

"The thing with my friendship and hers… it's not a business deal. I'll be back later, babe." Alyss turned and walked off, a dark cloud covering her slightly. Bruce didn't reply, and that itself was enough to anger her. Was she not good enough for a reply?

Sure, Bruce Wayne was a good man, but lately he'd been different. He would snap at her easily, and expect her to bend to his every whim.

"Stupid…" She muttered, getting into her car. As she turned out of the drive, she thought back to how things had been when they had first gotten together. It was pure bliss. But then, after many parties, socializing, and other woman glowering, Bruce had begun to revert back to a spoiled rich boy. As she sped down the hill, away from the manor, Alyss turned on music, determined to have a good day anyways.

* * *

Bruce turned around and stomped up the steps, his face grave. He had wanted to be able to spend time with Alyss, but even he had to work at Wayne Enterprises sometimes. Someone had stolen about a million dollars of merchandise from one of his cargo ships, and it hadn't been pretty.

"Why can't I tell her though?" He asked, bitterly. As he walked into their room, the scent of vanilla filled the air, and he smiled. She had made his life happy, and for what? He was being terrible to her. Why was it that when things began working the way they should, he had to mess it up for himself?

He would never know.

* * *

Harley composed herself as she stared at her smooth looking face, self consciously touching where she had applied a little more cover-up than usual to ensure that no one would see the red marks or bruises. No, in order to keep this case, she would have to make it seem like she was perfectly ok.

"Good morning, Dr. Arkham!" She chirped as she waltzed into the break room, grabbing a Styrofoam cup for her coffee. As she waited for the coffee to heat, she busied herself with ordering the sugar packets again, slightly disgusted that people could easily get them out of order. It wasn't that hard to keep things nice.

Then again, she was learning it was just as easy to let it lose control.

"Good morning… Dr. Quinn. I understand you're feeling better then?" Dr. Arkham nodded to two other psychologists as they walked in, but his eyes stayed trained on Harley. She beamed again and nodded to Dr. Brown and Dr. Lox before responding.

"Oh yes, I was just a little shaken. He really is a shock to the system, but I'm still up for it. The patterns of his behavior remind me of multiple personality disorder, but I'll have to delve in further to have a positive answer for my analysis paper." She gushed this in all one breath, her eyes shining; her smile intact as she took a drink of her coffee.

"Well… that's good. You're going to visit him again today?" Dr. Lox asked as she assessed Harley with an envious glare. Harley kept her face polite as she nodded, and grabbing her cup of coffee, she winked and left the room with the scent of strawberries.

"The girl thinks she farts the smell of rainbows." Dr. Lox muttered under her breath, much to the amusement of Dr. Brown.

"Dr. Lox… what would a rainbow smell like?" Dr. Nolden asked as he walked into the room, missing the first part of her sentence.

"Ask little miss perfect; she has an idea of it." Dr. Lox shook her head. "Dr. Arkham, you'd do well to take her off of that case, unless you want to feed her already growing ego. Either she'll succeed and drive everyone else mad, or she'll fail and end up in a cell next to his, mark my words."

"Please calm yourself, Dr. Lox. You should have faith in Dr. Quinn. She has a good head on her shoulders."

* * *

Harley felt like she was going insane the moment she entered the room. His presence was still electrifying, and it battered against her as she sat down and took a deep, calming breath. The Joker watched her from his position on his bed; never blinking. As Harley sat down and stared back, The Joker smirked.

"So… back for another dose of luuuurve, Doc?" He asked with a blatant sexual innuendo. Harley shook her head slowly, maintaining control of her fluttering pulse. She wouldn't allow him to psych her out again.

"Not exactly, Mr. Joker. I've just come to talk again." She kept her voice light and polite, but that seemed to annoy him. He cocked an eyebrow and leaned foreword, chains clanking against the bed side as he did so.

"That's all you shrinks do here, talk. How about we do something else, liven it up a bit?" He let his Cheshire cat grin take over his face as he winked. Harley blinked and felt like stuttering, but he was waiting for that, wasn't he? She wouldn't give it to him.

"Well, if you hadn't murdered all of those people and broken so many laws, you would be out there," She waved a hand in the general direction of Gotham City, "and doing what ever you please. Because you broke those laws, you're in here, talking." Crossing her legs, Harley waited for his response. By the glower that was slowly taking over his face, she could tell it wouldn't be pretty.

"Laws… laws… laws. Tell me, sweet cheeks, tell me who makes those laws you speak about, since you're so keen on the subject today." The Joker licked his lips and splayed his legs out, obviously getting comfortable. "Tell me; were they made to protect you? … or were they made to protect them?" Harley frowned, her face twisted slightly at the thought. What exactly was he doing? It was obvious he was trying to gain manipulate the conversation by making it something he wanted to talk about, but it also seemed like he was simply trying to make someone mad.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Pulling her pen out of her pocket, she wrote a few things down, stalling slightly.

"You tell me." He grinned, smacking his lips together. The Joker began making clicking sounds in the back of his throat after a couple of seconds, and when she didn't react to it, he began humming.

"Doc…" He crooned, "I'm getting impatient." Looking up, Harley cleared her throat, finally thinking up a way to get a handle back on the already lost situation.

"They were made to do both." She said simply, adjusting her glasses. As she realigned the papers on her clipboard, she heard his bone chilling chuckles, and she glanced up, startled.

"You're such… a fence sitter!" He crowed in amusement. Harley frowned, allowing him to think she was obvious to read; like a book. Leaning foreword, as if slightly miffed about what he said, she asked, tingeing the statement with disbelief and slight annoyance, "What?"

"You don't pick a side, doll face. You know it is only one… or the other! It's like... you're scared to offend one party by siding with the other." He smirked, curling his red lips up slightly. "But you've got no one to offend here, sweetheart. Tell me, ah, what you really feel." Pulling his chained hands back, he looked at her expectantly.

"That's how I really feel. It really is both. They wanted the people in positions of power to have a sense of security and safety, and they could do that by making rules for others to follow. If a population believes that the consequences outweigh the action, they won't do it. As long as the person in authority at least remained that way in image, then he didn't have to worry. When there are hints of anarchy or hints of loss of control, the people can revolt without feeling like they'll be punished. Rules were made for safety for both people. The crowd likes to feel like there are lines to separate insane from sane, and the people giving those lines like to feel like if the people are scared to do wrong, it keeps everyone safe at night when they sleep." Harley took a deep breath, and raised an eyebrow at The Joker, only to see him clapping, a mocking look marring his face. For some reason, her answer ashamed her. His laughter only made it worse.

"Very good… doc. I have to disagree though." The Joker cleared his throat, blinking past shadowed eyes. "It was never made to proteCt the… the uh, people. You hinted at that whether you noticed or noT, doC. It was to keep the people… scared. Scared to be free… scared to be natural, chaotic." He smacked his lips and looked up, staring at a very specific spot on the ceiling. "When things don't go the righT way… people get angry. Even better… they… well, they just get plain scared. They don't know what to do, so they then turn to the one who made the rules to 'keep them safe'." The Joker let out a hoarse laugh that was high pitched and terrifying, sending chills up and down Harley's back. She stared at him though, fascinated at what he had to say. "And at first… it's a power trip for the biG man upstairs. But... when… well, when they see he doesn't know what to do with all of his so called safety procedures and the like… they get angry. Why can't they kill the sadistic clown? Well, that's against the law. Rules… your precious rules, keep me alive."

"Yes, that's all fine and all," Harley said loudly, over The Joker's appalling laughter, "But the point of rules is to keep people-"

"In a boundary they're scared to cross!" The Joker shouted, laughing all the more. He brought his shackled hands up to his face, touching the scars sharply, jabbing them jubilantly.

"No, to keep them safe from others who cross it!" Harley snapped. What was she doing? Allowing a patient to get to her like this?

"Why do they chain me up, doc?" He asked, still probing the swollen looking skin around his mouth.

"You're dangerous to others." Harley stated confidently

"But not to myself." He pointed out, grinning. His dark eyes bore into hers with a strange intensity that exhilarated her. Still, she had to fight against it.

"Well, no. You're not dangerous to yourself." She agreed, trying to gain control again. He had taken her act and run with it, and she hadn't even realized how. In her mind, she was frantically trying to find where she went wrong. Had she taken her act as seriously as he had? Or had she taken it seriously when he hadn't at all?

"But I'm different than others, so they chain me up and away from everyone else, scared that I'll get to them… much like I'm getting to you." The Joker looked back up, his face innocent, but his grin couldn't stay neutral for too long. He began laughing again, much to Harley's annoyance. She felt like everything was building, and her heart was beating to loud, matching her emotions too well.

"They keep you away from others because you make your point about these so called rules in a violent way that's detrimental to others health!" At her sudden outburst, the room went dead silent, Harley poised over her clipboard, her face turned up in anger, and The Joker staring at her, grinning slightly, victoriously. Harley hated how he kept staring at her, and it got worse when his Glasgow grin widened. There was a tense silence over the room while he assessed her, cocking his head to the side in amusement. She could see faint tremors of barley suppressed chuckles.

"What?" She snapped, letting emotion take over.

"You said… so called rules, Dr. Quinn." He informed her slowly, his grin widening up to his ears, the scars stretching grotesquely. Harley froze at this statement, her body going numb as she thought back to what she had just said. She had called them so called rules. What was she thinking!?

"I… I wouldn't say it like that…normally." She informed him evasively. The Joker gave a higher pitched cackle, rocking back and pulling on his chains slightly.

"Normally… but around me… you're what I want you to be." He smirked at the look of horror crossing her face. "All it takes to get to someone is to make them use their emotions to win. You try, doc, to get the upper hand by tomfoolery and the like… but I use something better." The Joker tapped his greasy head with a smile. "My mind. And sweet cheeks, there isn't a damn thing better than this."

* * *

The Joker watched Harley's face twist into disgust, his repressed laughter shaking his chest. This… this was just so much fun! Twisting her thoughts around and all it took was a session that lasted about ten minutes! And it wasn't even over yet. Looking at the doc, he could see her frantically running through their conversation, trying to see when he had gotten the upper hand. The laughter bubbled up through is throat and exploded out of his mouth.

"Haha, Dr. Quinn… stop trying to think about it." He advised between the cackles forcing their way up.

"Thinking about what?" His harlequin asked cautiously, her face still that of a surprised young child. Thoughts of a little red riding hood in an alleyway entered his mind, and he chuckled appreciatively.

"About when you lost control. I'll tell you now… babe… you never had iT." He grinned at her indignant expression, and then when he saw it in her eyes that she felt defeated, he almost felt a sliver of pity at the open book of a chit sitting on front of him. She was so slow on the uptake sometimes.

Almost.

"Say, doc, let's talk about something else. I do love our conversations." He mused, looking back up at that ceiling spot. He had a feeling that if he scared her off now, he would have more dates with simply staring at a ceiling tile for a long time.

"What do you want to talk about?" Harley asked wearily, much to his amusement. She was learning to be careful, instead of crafty. _Well,_ The Joker mused, _at least she catches on quickly. _

"My childhood." He informed her, somewhat drearily. He felt the desire to begin cackling again, but he reined it in, waiting for the punch line. That part was always the best. And he had a line that would knock the pants of someone.

In a manner of speaking, of course.

"What parts? I have to say, I don't believe the last ones I've been told, or read about." He had to applaud her on that; she had gotten control of herself fairly quickly. Letting a small giggle rip past his lips, he sat Indian style, despite the chains digging into his ankles. Letting his chin rest on his hands, he stared expectantly at her.

"I like to have a variety of choices. If I'm going to have a past, I like it to be... multiple choice." He informed her in a matter-of-fact tone that made her raise an eyebrow.

"I don't think you really remember what it was, Mr. Joker." She said in an authoritative tone. The Joker rocked back slightly, holding back the laugh that almost exploded from him. Really, she was a bundle of mood swings, wasn't she? He was guessing something along the lines of multiple personality disorder, or maybe a hint of bi-polar tendencies? They switched too fast to be normal. This would be too fun.

If it's one thing he loved, it was exploiting an already weak point.

It took a moment for him to really register what she was saying, and then he felt anger coursing through him like acid. What was she trying to say? That he didn't know his own past? Of course he knew!

"And you want to know what I think, sweet cheeks?" He asked, dangerously quiet. He watched as a warning sign flickered across her face at his words. Good. She should be scared. He could almost feel his arms reaching towards her, desiring to rip her vocal cords out.

"That's what we're here for, aren't we?" She asked kindly. "We're here to hear what you think."

"Well, doc, here's what I think. I think… you're similar to me. Call it a pre-Joker situation… except not. You want control, you demand the right to be on top… but- though it's tragic- you just don't know how to get there. Face it, toots, you don't have a lot of talent. That's the main difference; would you care to hear another?" He was practically growling with anger as he let the fires become stoked with rage. "I have a purpose here. I'm here to break that little box that surrounds everyone like they're cattle. I'm good at what I do. You? Well, Harley girl, you've got potential. But not enough. You're the girl that never had enough. And once again… we are- well, we're back to the whole control issue thing. I think you're just trying to gain back a control you never had. Face it, sweet cheeks, you never had it, and you never will." He could feel his breath becoming ragged and little ripples of laughter broke through it, giving him a crazed look.

He could see the strange battle in her eyes as she stared, her jaw dropping slightly at his words. Seeing her silence, he continued. Here was the chance to see what she was really made of.

"Better yet, my little harlequin, you sit there, acting like you know everything about who I am but you really… really… don'T. But me? I know you… I can see it all, right in your pretty blue eyes." He then grinned a horrendously large grin that he felt stretching his skin almost too far. No, not far enough. The Joker could never push anything too far. No one would ever be on his level. No one deserved to.

"I know more about you than you know." Harley snapped, her cheeks flaming red. The Joker smiled blandly at her weak attempt.

"Tell me, doll face, tell me about… me. You seem to know sooooo muuuch." He drug his last words out with a leer. Harley was glaring, her temper rising, he could tell, and he wished he could egg it on, just a little bit more. It was obvious it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge.

"I know you enjoy tormenting those who value their lives, and value their safety. You can't stand people not listening to you, and you can't stay in the shadows for long. You have to be the center of attention, or you're angry." She was spitting her words out, the clip board long forgotten on the table as she leaned forward, glaring. The Joker laughed, kicking his legs out again, his face twisted into mockery.

"Well, sweet cheeks… since you know me, ah… so well… I feel like I can really, really open uP to you…" He grinned angrily, and Harley began to truly look angry.

"Then open up, because we're getting nowhere with this." She snapped, her anger growing as The Joker's anger waned. He felt more amusement than anger building, and throwing his head back, he gave his famous screeching laughter that made her flinch slightly.

"But this is so entertaining sweet cheeks. I'm entertained." He smiled in a friendly way, but he could see the distrust and frustration clouding her eyes. God… this was so much fun!

"This session is over." Harley fumed, her eyes flashing dangerously. The Joker rocked back, and when he smacked his head, pain flashed across his eyes, but he kept laughing, his eyes wild. Pain dotted his vision, sending his head reeling slightly, but he couldn't fight back the amount of giddiness rushing past his lips as he guffawed. After a few moments, he managed to calm down enough to see her standing up, calmly collecting her papers.

"Leaving so soon, doc?" He asked, smiling. The pain was already fading even though he could feel blood on the back of his head. He was staring at Harley, watching, waiting. She was looking down, readjusting her papers, and when he made an almost indiscernible noise, she looked back up, fuming. Her blue eyes flashed as she dropped her clipboard and stomped over, her cheeks flaming in anger, her breath coming quick. Lifting her hand, she swung it across, backhanding him. The Joker felt his neck jerk, he felt the blood rush to his cheek, and he felt pain, but the most prominent emotion was an onrush of victory.

Turning back, he watched as she stood in front of him, her hand still in the air, as if debating doing it again. The Joker leaned foreword, anticipating it. His eyes glittered in exhilaration.

"Hit me again, sweet cheeks." He crooned in low, gravelly tones. Harley's face darkened, and as she swung her hand down to hit him again, he caught it, wrenching her down to his level. All of the anger suddenly faded from her face as she realized what she had just done.

"Ah… does my little harlequin have a… a, uh, problem?" He licked his lips and laughed darkly at the wince she gave when he applied pressure to her wrist. "It appears, doctor… that patient 843, AKA Harley Quinn has spasmodic episodes of bi-polarity. Or… or maybe it's even more?" He dragged her arm towards him, bringing her face closer to his.

"Maybe," He breathed into her ear, "Maybe… it's a bit of insanity. Just. Like. Mine." Releasing her arm, he pushed her back, watching with satisfaction as she fell back against the table, her glare back in place. The Joker watched with hooded eyes as she straightened her jacket slowly, fixed her glasses, grabbed her clipboard, and stomped out of the room. The Joker smiled as he leaned back, letting his bleeding head rest against the cold cement wall.

"Someone's got a temper…" He chuckled to himself.

* * *

**Ah, that was funny. Had a lot of entertainment writing that... Review!**


	4. Abuse

_Sorry it's taken so long to update guys. I've been dealing with a death lately,_

_and I haven't been able to channel it to writing._

_Sorry if this is totally lame, it's what I have._

_Enjoy_

* * *

_**Day Two**_

Alyss watched as her friend shopped like someone on speed; she didn't stop moving. Laughing, she followed, standing on the side that hid the scar that drug one side of her smile down into a grimace. Boys turned and stared at her pretty side, obviously interested, but she ignored them all. She had confessed to Alyss once that she couldn't stand guys staring at her anymore. It had too many… bad memories.

"So, what's with the shopping trip?" Sariah asked randomly, her face curious as the two of them entered into Forever 21. The clerk smiled politely at them, but when she saw Sariah turn her head, the polite smile became a frown. Alyss could see the woman's muddy brown eyes staring, dumbstruck at the scar, and with a muted snarl, Alyss gave a pointed, angry look at the woman. The clerk looked away when she saw herself become a target.

"Bruce cancelled another date." Alyss muttered, slightly embarrassed to mention him to Sariah. She knew what the reaction would be. Sariah had been happy for them at first; ecstatic even, but the more days they had gone shopping, the less she had liked Bruce. She was absurdly protective over Alyss, more so than usual since a few months ago.

"Slap him. Good gracious alive, he's hot, but no. If he kept cancelling on me, I'd break up with him." Sariah stated matter-of-factly, her face set. Alyss felt her emotions become deadpan as she stared at her friend in the middle of the store. Sariah slowly stopped sifting through clothes when she realized she was getting, "the look". Sheepishly, she turned back to see Alyss half glowering at her.

"You know… I was just kidding…" She muttered, turning beet red.

* * *

Alyss slipped under the covers, sighing in content. She had had the time of her life, just letting everything go. She hadn't bought much, just a few books, but she felt so much better.

The light in the room dimmed slowly as she clapped her hands, but the moment they turned off, they flew back on at someone else's clap. Alyss jerked up from her pillow, her body tense, but she relaxed as she saw Bruce walk lazily into the room. He was smiling softly as he turned into his closet to put his suit away, and Alyss felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. He was staying home tonight.

"Hey." He said softly, walking back out, ruffling his hair from its professional style. Alyss scooted over as he slid between the covers, wrapping his arms around her.

"Hey." She replied, butterflies in her stomach. Her anger and frustration had melted away during the day, and the fact that he was home tonight showed he was sorry too.

"I haven't been upfront." He said simply, playing with a strand of her hair. Alyss shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.

"I've been pretty rude." She informed him. Bruce laughed, hugging her tightly.

"You'll never let me apologize." He muttered, exasperated. Alyss shook her head and leaned against him, slowing her breathing, enjoying the moment too much to have a "heart to heart confession".

"As long as I don't have to either, it's a good idea."

* * *

Bruce stared up at the ceiling, his body twitching every now and then. It felt strange to sleep next to someone. Every time he did, it felt strange. Yet here he was, arms wrapped around Alyss, his face pained for some reason.

He wasn't used to this. It had been so long, and he still wasn't used to it. He had told Drake to take care of patrol, much to the cop's delight after being banished for a night. Robin loved what he did.

Batman wasn't so sure anymore.

He felt torn between being himself, being Mr. Wayne, and being Batman. He knew he couldn't be all three, but here he was. Trying, for her, to get by with three names.

For her. Always for her.

The temptation was too great. It would be only a few hours, just a quick run through. He didn't think Drake could do it all on his own. After all, she was sound asleep. Sliding his arm from her waist, he turned over, as if pretending to find a more comfortable position on the bed. She didn't stir, her mouth open slightly as she breathed in deeply, face at ease.

Rolling silently off of the bed, Bruce crept out of the room, guilt washing over him with every step he took.

* * *

_**Day Three**_

Harley stumbled into the shower, steam rising around her as she turned the heat up, wincing at the cold burn at settled against her shoulders in a steady pounding of water. She didn't want to wake up, let alone think about the number of things that rushed through her mind as the alarm clock buzzed annoyingly by her side. She almost didn't want to see The Joker today; she almost called in sick.

Almost.

He had reached far into her mind. Harley could almost feel him searching through her memories as she struggled to fight against the guilt that had crushed her when he had tried to diagnose her. How could he read her so well?

"They never diagnosed me." She half snarled to herself, turning the heat up higher. She could feel his fingers on her skin, probing her flesh as he smirked up at her. It was true; she had never been to a shrink. The most she had ever seen was a school counselor for punching Jimmy Trudy in the mouth. It had been random; all he had done was take a coloring crayon she had wanted. BAM! The counselor had suggested a psychiatrist, but Harley's proud, proud father wouldn't have it. Not like Harley wanted to be known as the class freak anyway. The water burned and pricked at Harley's flesh but she didn't have the desire to cool it off. No matter how hard it hurt to stand under roaring, scalding water, she knew it could be worse.

The morning seemed like a blur as she stumbled around her immaculate apartment, getting things together in a half orderly manner. She was glad she hadn't turned into one of those slobs who let everything become chaotic.

_No, you just act like you're not. _Her mind snarled in glee. Harley pushed her thoughts away and continued to move around the house, her face set in a dead pan, fatigued mask. She wasn't sure if she could rein her temper in anymore.

The ride to Arkham was even worse. Thoughts kept whirling through her head, refusing to let her be. She was ensnared with guilt at hitting him, but she didn't know why. There was a sick satisfaction at striking the psychotic clown, but she had broken her professional shield to do so.

He was playing with her; like a toy. He was creeping into every crevice of her mind, suffocating her train of thought. She had almost forgotten to feed her two favorite things in the world, her Dobermans, AKA her babies. She didn't have real babies of her own, didn't plan to, so why bother? Dogs were much better anyway. She was sure that if The Joker ever met them… they would try to rip him apart. And they would lose.

"Stop thinking about him!" She chastised herself, mentally beating herself. It was all a game to him! Nothing could be taken seriously that way if something bad happened, it wasn't taken like it should, therefore making him seem stranger than normal!

"That's it." Harley muttered as she shut her car off and leaned back against the headrest. "He wants to play like this? Then let the games truly begin."

* * *

"Dr. Arkham?" Dr. Lox stood in front of his desk, her face grave. Looking up, the head psychiatrist fixed her with a questioning stare.

"I think Harley Quinn should be taken off of The Joker's case." Dr. Lox puffed her chest out in pride at her next statement. "I think I should be put on." Dr. Arkham nearly choked on his spit, his face turning red with both horror and amusement at the woman's gall.

"And… why is this?" He asked.

"She's too confidant for her own good. She can't handle his case; the guard told me she stomped out of the room, fuming yesterday. If she let's The Joker see her emotions so plainly, it's going to jeopardize everything." Dr. Lox smiled at the look of surprise on his face. Plodding on, she continued. "If you'll just give me a test run… I'll show you my competency."

There was a stunned silence in the room as Dr. Arkham weighted his options. He knew Dr. Lox wouldn't stop until she got her hands on the case, but he also knew Dr. Quinn would throw a fit if she was taken off of it. He wasn't sure which person he was more apprehensive of.

"You can try it today, Dr. Lox. We'll video tape it and review." Dr. Arkham sighed heavily.

"Thank you, sir. You won't regret this."

* * *

"IS HE KIDDING ME?!" Harley slammed a book against the wall as she stomped around the office, her face red in fury. All of her anger was being channeled in every movement she made, and with a snarl she kicked the book again. She only felt a small tingling on her foot as she watched the book slam back into the wall again.

"Two days… he gave me two days and then moved me." She hissed, turning around to grip her desk, feeling the grains of wood digging into her skin. Suddenly, she stopped, her face falling as she realized that it might be better.

"Two days…" She mused, crestfallen. Two days, and The Joker was this far into her head? Two days, and she was ravaging her office in anger? What was her deal? Taking deep, calming breaths, Harley walked over to her comfortable leather chair and sat down. Turning around, she looked out of the window, trying to keep herself in control. The Joker wanted her to lose it; she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"You've got to be kidding me." She muttered, staring at the window. She was looking herself in the eyes, and hated the look there. It was the look of someone out of their element, and she couldn't stand the feeling.

"Deep breaths…" She told herself, all the while thinking she should just call it quits. There was no way to keep calm.

"Keep calm." She whispered.

The longer she sat there though, the harder it was to keep calm. She wasn't fighting anger anymore; no… she was fighting back laughter. Just the idea of Dr. Lox trying to gain the upper hand over someone of The Joker's caliber was… amusing. Did that anal-retentive witch seriously think she could get into that man's mind?

Harley sat there, laughing as she waited for Dr. Lox to come crawling back from the wreckage.

* * *

"Where's Dr. Quinn?" The Joker asked, his face bored as Dr. Lox walked in. She severely assessed his wet green hair, tellings of a shower, and shadowed eyes, telling of a wary animal, before she sat down, pen poised over her paper. She wouldn't answer.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." The Joker prodded, his face turning into a frown. Who the hell did this lady think she was? She was an older woman, ugly and stupid. Her eyes were muddy, and her grey hair was cut short, tucked behind large ears. She fixed him with a stern look.

"Well, that much was obvious. But I'm not here to bend to your whims, joker." She stated in a smug voice. The Joker felt a grin tugging at his scars. He obliged the desire, lowering his head so he looked truly demonic.

"Oh… well, ah, whose whims would you benD to?" He asked, smacking his lips. "You're iMplying… doC… that you'd bend to someone's…" He let his laugh ring throughout the room, staring into her eyes as she returned his gaze with a bored expression. He leaned foreword, amusement rippling underneath his strange exterior. His eyes probed hers, searching for a weakness. Everyone had a weakness. And it was his job to find it.

And make it worse.

"I bend to no one's whims. You however, let yours control you." She stated obviously, her face still in a passive stage, but her monotone voice changed slightly as she said the word, 'control'. The Joker pounced on it.

"Aaah… everyone in this place… has a problem wiTH thaT… don't they? All of these psychiatrists running arounD… wishing they haD something… whaT is it?" The Joker tapped his chin with his handcuffs. "OH!! It's… well, it'S controL. That's why you, uh, work here… isn't it? All of you… that's your problem." The Joker smiled. "Me? I'm in perfect control. Nothing… no one… tells me how to live my life. Why? They're too, uh, scared to… haha."

"That's the problem then. You don't have enough self discipline and order to achieve a better goal." Dr. Lox smiled smugly, causing The Joker to lapse into a fit of giggles.

"ORDER?! Oh, that's the ace cake, doC. Do you know why I'm in here?" The Joker waved his arms around to signify the room. "I'm, ah, causing disorder here, the exaCt opposite..." The Joker leaned foreword. "Now… I want my other psychiatrist here… today." Dr. Lox gave a stiff laugh, repressing the shudders his stare gave her. She would get this case, and the glory that came with it. No insane clown would stop her from achieving that.

"She's not going to be giving you treatment anymore. Now… tell me about your dreams." Dr. Lox ordered, her face stony suddenly. The Joker felt anger bubbling in his stomach. Or was it hunger? He couldn't tell, so he decided it should be the first.

"Why noT?" He asked, leaning back, showing his grin. "Why isn't my little harlequin giving me treaTmenT? Is… is it something I said?" He asked, horrified.

"No… it's what she didn't do. But we're not here to discuss that." Dr. Lox waved an impatient hand away. "She's in the past. I'm the present." The Joker watched as the annoyance faded from her eyes. So she had taken his toy away from him? The Joker felt his blood burn. No one took away something he wanted. Ever.

"Yesssssss… and I'm the future. Here's a dream… doC. I've had it for, uh, a very loooong time. Recurring, you see." The Joker smiled slightly, as if he was saying he was going to behave. Dr. Lox leaned foreword, skeptical, but he could see the greed in her eyes.

"Go on." She prodded, her old face scrunched up like a rotten pumpkin. The Joker chuckled.

"I- I just keep seeing… Gotham. In flames. Haha, I love it. The whole city is a, uh, ablaze. Be-Cuz… of me. And I'm laughing." The Joker pulled his shackled legs up to the table and slammed them on the metal top, laughing as he saw her jump. Raising an eyebrow, he lifted his leg and let it slam down again, relishing in another jump from his doctor. Ah, another sign.

"So… you don't like louD noises… do you, doC?" He asked, licking his lips slowly. Dr. Lox shook her head, her eyes shielding something. He could practically smell a secret.

"They don't bother me. So that's the dream you've had lately? How frequent is it?" She asked, jotting a few things down. The Joker frowned, the action making her frown as well, staring at his scars. They made a strange W shape with the real mouth curving down and the fake one still up. She was lying. He would prove it.

"REALLY!" He shouted, slamming his fists onto the table as he slammed his feet onto the ground. She jumped, and her hand reached up to her throat, as if her mind was throwing her into a different time. "Cuz I would thinK… that you were really… really…" He trailed off, his grin falling back into place as he whispered the next word, almost reverently, "scared." Dr. Lox stared at him, hooked by his words, fear crowding the look on her face. The hold he had over her suddenly was tearing away the walls around her muddy eyes, revealing the fear behind them. The Joker began laughing. He had a winner!

"So that'S it… you're scared." He finished, somewhat lamely. Dr. Lox shook her head, almost violently.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said sternly, much to The Joker's twisted amusement.

"You could say that… but then I'd have to call you a liar." He practically growled at her. Leaning foreword, he placed his hands on the table, leaning onto them. "What is iT… doC… that makes people lie to me?" He threw a dramatic hand up. "I've been an honest man… I thinK… I've always done what I said I would… but you all just keeP… lying to me!" He sighed, shaking his head.

"No one is lying to you here." Dr. Lox attempted to sooth. Her hand was shaking as she reached foreword. The Joker looked down, still shaking his head. Trembling, she let her hand rest on his shoulder. Moving with the speed of a snake, He snatched her wrist, dragging her towards him. Dr. Lox closed her eyes, her face tense, wary. Suddenly, it went dead.

"Yet again and again and again… I SEE you lying! Tell me… doC… were you abused?" He snarled, pressing his nails into her wrist. The doctor didn't wince. In fact, she seemed to close herself off from everything else, her face dead as she lay across the table, limp. The Joker leaned in closer, his breath on her ear.

"A good taCtiC… doC. One I've seen before. Was your daddy mean to you… as a child?" he crooned, laughing as he did so. She was panting softly, her harsh features standing out as she tried to block him out.

"Yes, yes, yes, block me ouT. NoT like it will work… but good try. I should give you an A… for your eFFort." The Joker grabbed her chin harshly, wrenching her face towards his. Her eyes were lifeless, her chin quivering.

"Answer me… puppeT." He hissed softly. Dr. Lox seemed childlike, her old face giving off the apparent signs.

"N-no." She stammered, still lifeless. The Joker slammed her face into the table, relishing at her twitch of pain. She could stand his abuse, another sign.

"QUIT LYING TO ME." He roared, his face twisted into a grin as he brought her back up. She was blinking rapidly, and her nose was broken, but the shape of it before he had injured her showed The Joker that it had been broken before. It bled, the crimson color running across her lips. She still made not a sound of pain, even in her old age.

"You… you just don't get, uh, the poinT… do you?" He hissed savagely, pulling her closer. "I can see everythinG… that happened. You haha, you hate loud noises. Why? Daddy beat… haha, mommy. The sound of her SLAMMING into the wall made you sc-sc-scareD… because he was coming for you. You went dead when daddy came into the room, didn't you? You thought he would become boreD… with you if you didn'T reaCT. Am… am I right? Of courSe… I am. I thinK… doC… we've really gotten somewhere! We have a winner!" The Joker smiled as Dr. Lox was thrown backwards, into her chair. She sagged against it, the barriers to her mind crumpled as her eyes told him he was right. The Joker stood up, pulling against his chains.

"Oh!" He cried, suddenly overly excited. "Oh… oh, oh. Or maybe…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Or maybe… it was mommy who hiT you… and daddy left one day, tired of iT. Is thaT… it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Dr. Lox shook her head, her face bleak.

"The first." She whispered, staring straight up at him, her voice monotone.

"Ah… I would have guessed. BuT… why stoP there? You got this job… doc… because you couldn't have control. You, what's the word… you couldn't get a grasP… of yourself. You wanted to see what made men like… like daddy do… what they did." He pursed his lips, staring at her, his grin jumping out from his disappointment. There was a dead silence as he stared at her, shaking his head.

"You see… this is why I wanT my other doc. She can… well, the girl's got spunK." He smacked his lips on the word 'spunk' as if tasting it. "She handles my moods… very well." His voice cracked as he raised his eyebrow. "You… disappointment me."

"… I-I… I'm sorry." She stuttered, her face white again.

"No… you're not." He retorted, laughing blackly. "You're not sorry… yet. But you can feel guilty… that you goT caughT. ThinK… doctor… think of how it felt, to, ah, be abused. Think of how it felt… to have him all over you, telling you, you weren't, ah, worth it. Imagine him. He hurt you worse than I did… but not worse than I, uh, can." He licked his lips. "Remember thaT… for your analysis." The Joker remained standing, and Dr. Lox just stayed slumped in her seat, her eyes glazed. The Joker sighed impatiently.

"You uh… I have to say… let's be honest, baBe…" He licked his lips. "You've bored me. You could have maDe… this much easier, but you haven't. I still can't geT that about… Gotham. So I have one order to give… it's simple. Give me back Dr. Harley Quinn. Make it easier on you."

He began laughing, his face twisted more than usual as he began pulling on his chains, head thrown back as his shrieks of amusement rippled off of the concrete, surrounding the both of them with echoes of lunacy. Pulling herself up, Dr. Lox turned and fled, grabbing her nose in pain as she suddenly felt life course through her again. Still The Joker laughed, the desire running through his veins. As he fell back into the metal chair, he lifted his feet up, his humor dark as he crowed at his brilliancy. Even as the guard came in, his face set, the tranquilizer in his hand, The Joker couldn't stop. An unknown force seized his mind as he let his insanity ring out in his laughter.

Even as he felt the needle pierce his skin with more force than necessary, The Joker kept his laughing up, tears springing into his eyes as techni-color bubbles crowded in his vision. He could see multiple guards unlocking his chains and pulling a jacket over his arms. He could feel twenty or so arms being wrapped around him, hugging him tightly. His laughs became slow chuckles as his head lolled back, feeling suddenly heavy. Still, he laughed. It was low, forced, and painful, but he couldn't help it. It was a part of him, and even as the bubbles faded and a slightly stinging darkness ate away at his edges, he laughed.

He always got what he wanted. Always.

* * *

Harley felt rather than heard Dr. Lox enter. Turning around in her chair, she was surprised and amused to see Dr. Lox with blood covering her mouth, her eyes wild with unconcealed fear.

"Yes?" She asked, acting curious. Dr. Lox spat on the ground in front of her, her saliva mingling with the blood in her mouth.

"Take him." She hissed, her eyes wild. Harley leaned foreword, raising an eyebrow.

"Doctor… what happened to you?" She asked, hiding that she already knew the answer.

"Just take him." Dr. Lox spat, her face red, and with a snarl, she whirled out of the room and slammed the door. Harley stood up and peered around, as if to make sure no one was in the room or watching as she jumped excitedly up and down. Stopping, she cleared her throat, repressing the giddy desire to run about.

There would be order in her life; she would make sure of it.

* * *

"Dr. Arkham." Someone said in a sob-like voice, and looking up from his paperwork, the head doctor was stunned to see a bleeding psychiatrist in his office. Dr. Lox looked defeated, her face sagging and blood dripping from a still bleeding nose onto her white, crisp jacket.

"Dr. Lox!" Dr. Arkham sprung from his seat, his face concerned as he raced foreword and directed her into a chair. Pulling out his walkie talkie, he quickly called for some paramedics to assist her.

"What happened?" He asked, probing along her jaw for signs of swelling. He couldn't tell if it was just her nose that was injured. Dr. Lox began to repress tears, her face slack.

"He… he got into my thoughts." She half gasped. "I have no idea how he does it, sir. He picked up my… little things about people… and exploits them until their big enough to make guesses… and I slipped." She shuddered as memories filtered into her mind, making her feel small again. She hated it. Hated them.

"What did he say?" He asked, checking her eyes, checking her pulse.

"He threatened me." She muttered, avoiding his gaze. As the paramedics rushed in, Dr. Arkham stood up, letting them assist her. Her crying began to worsen as they began probing for answers too. After ten minutes of listening to nothing by worthless blubbering, he snapped for them to get her out of his room.

"Take her to an empty cell." He said, exasperated. They took her away without another word. Pressing the intercom, he linked the message through to Dr. Quinn's room.

"Dr. Quinn… I would like you to get back onto The Joker's case… and you're also assigned the case of Dr. Lox as well." He informed her gravely.

"Yes sir, thank you." Was the only reply. Sitting down, Dr. Arkham sighed in defeat as he looked down at his employee list. The numbers were dwindling fast, and sooner or later he would be one of the only ones left.

* * *

The Joker woke up slowly, his face confused as he blinked blearily around. His arms felt sluggish, even wrapped securely around him. As he lifted himself up into a sitting position, he stared about the room, a headache making him smile. He had done it; he had made another one run. What was the count today? Sighing, he shrugged himself against the wall, his face amused as he waited for something to happen. Something would happen soon, he could feel it.

An hour later, or some time like that (The Joker couldn't tell time in his cell) the door screeched open, and a dainty leg appeared. The Joker licked his lips, recognizing that leg. So the dumb broad had done what he said, just like he knew she would. No one could say no to him. As the perfectly put together Harley Quinn stepped into the room, The Joker smiled wider, his face pleasant.

"Welcome bacK… doC."

* * *

_Well. That's what I have._

_Let me know what you think, KK?_

_Reviews would be awesome!_

* * *


	5. Anger

_Whoo, sorry it's taken so long to update_

_I've been having a writer's slump._

_Different from a block_

_Much more annoying too._

_So, just review, Yes?_

* * *

_**Day Three**_

_It was dark, and it was cold. It was strange, and it made fear a reeking smell in her nose. It made her flesh crawl and it made her wince as laughter shivered up her spine. She still looked on, her face deadpan, even though her mind screamed for her to be disgusted. For some reason, it was hard to be. Deep down, it didn't frighten her at all. It was normal. The blood pooling around her feet seemed to blend with red and black shoes. _

_"Finish it." The voice hissed. Revulsion ripped through the very fiber of her being, but she took no notice. A thrill of excitement shocked her as she flicked the knife across the man's throat. Blood spurted onto her cheek. She smiled as she felt a finger reach across, wiping it off. Turning, she felt a jolt of electricity as she watched him lick his finger. It was so… tempting. _

_Turning to her left, she was shocked to see a mirror. Both horrified and amused, she skipped over to it, her face twisted. Peering in, she held back a strangled scream as she saw what she was. _

_She wasn't her, anymore. It looked like a strange woman in a jester's outfit, the costume skin tight, something covering her hair. Her face was entirely white, and she wore a small mask that seemed to stick to her face. Pressing it, she realized it was an adhesive that kept it on her face. Shocking baby blue eyes stared back at her in wonderment, and she flashed a hesitant smile, jumping as the mirror responded to her action. It smiled back. _

_"I love your new look." the man behind her commented, and she felt a blush rise beneath the thick white paint on her face. Blinking, the paint was suddenly gone, and a beautiful young woman stared back, screaming as she was dragged away from the mirror by The Joker, her face unrecognizable. _

Alyss woke up, feeling strange. It took her a moment to realize why she felt weird. She was half on the bed, half off. Sheets wrapped tightly around her legs, and she felt odd as she realized she was sweating slightly. Struggling to get up, she wrenched the stupid sheets off of her and looked up.

She wasn't surprised to see an empty room.

"Of course." She muttered, wrenching off her pajamas to take a shower. She felt anger coursing through her. Was it too much to ask for one night?! He had made an appearance of staying, and yet he had left anyway. What's the point of a show that no one wants to see or believe?!

She turned the water on cold, jumping in and ignoring the shivers that instantly erupted on her arms. She needed to chill out, why not chill off as well? He would always do something like that. He would always leave for the other life that seemed just so much more appealing than the normal one he could have.

She washed herself quickly, her teeth chattering as the cold nipped her bones and caressed her skin like frigid silk. She dressed quickly afterwards, getting warm clothes for the cold air outside. Her wet hair fell onto her back and left a trail of water on her undershirt as she pulled layers on. She wasn't going to stay in the manor today either. She could feel anger underneath the surface of her skin, threatening to unleash its terror at the slightest reason.

Pulling a hoodie on, she walked out of the master bedroom, and almost literally bumped into Alfred, who came bearing tidings of clean sheets.

"Good morning Miss Alyss. How are you?" He asked politely, smiling at her dark and brooding face.

"Peachy." She grumbled, her temper starting to leak through. Alfred raised an eyebrow before going into the room, setting down the sheets, and catching up with the angry girl.

"If I may point something out miss, you don't sound to peachy." Alfred teased, following her easily with her short legs. Alyss rolled her eyes but managed a smile at her old friend. They had subconsciously leaned onto each other for support while Bruce went off saving Gotham.

"He stayed the night… until I fell asleep." Alyss grumbled as she rounded the corner and stepped into the manor's kitchen. Alfred nodded slowly as he walked around to the fridge, pulling out necessary ingredients for breakfast. She muttered under her breath as she stared at the tile.

"Maybe something came up?" Alfred guessed, his face twisted between agreement and remorse. Alyss snorted under her breath, a habit when it came to him.

"He wouldn't have known about it until the morning. But he didn't stay around to find out!" She snapped, fueling her anger to stand up, stomp around the island in the kitchen to grab the knife from Alfred's fingers and begin chopping the mango he had skillfully managed to skin. Alfred smiled thinly, stepping around her to grab a few kiwis.

"I'm not making excuses, Miss Alyss… but he really isn't used to staying home at night." Alfred said quietly.

"I… I know. It's just annoying, night after night like this. Is it worth it?" Alyss asked, turning to look at him, her face twisted slightly. Alfred winced at the face she pulled, her eyes fighting against her expression. This wasn't the first time he had heard a woman say that. The last one who had ended up dying.

"I can't begin to tell you if it is, Miss Alyss. You'll have to see for yourself. Were you happier with, or without him?" He asked lightly, scooting her over to toss the kiwis into the frying pan. They sizzled brightly.

"Jesus, Alfred… I can't remember anymore."

* * *

Batman struggled against the bonds wrapped tightly against his arms, crushing them into his sides. His mouth was set into a grimace of determination as he fought to wriggle one arm from his side. His captors were close by, and if he didn't hurry, he would pay dearly.

He knew he would pay dearly anyway. He had thought that if he had done only one sweep of Gotham he would be fine. But that had turned into two sweeps. On the fifth sweep, he had been taken by surprise. And now he would have to suffer Alyss's wrath when he finally got out of this scrap.

He sighed, pulled harder at the bonds, and prayed her anger would be gone by the time he got home.

* * *

_**Day Four**_

"Mr. Joker, why did you attack Dr. Lox like that?" Harley leaned back in her chair, her face torn between two emotions The Joker would be hard pressed to name. If he had to say, he would claim one was amusement, but that would take a lot of thought and scrutiny to convince people of that. The other was the simple intrigue that she always seemed to possess. Leaning back against the chair he was chained to, he smiled crookedly. She was so easily to read, so easy to mold, but at the same time she possessed an edge that you had to smooth over like water of a brook. Once he smoothed the edges, he knew she would belong to him for good.

"She wasn'T… very, uh, nice to me." He cleared his throat and licked his lips. Harley gave a short bark of laughter, but he could see that it was more than just a professional laugh. She really was amused.

"I have a hard time believing you had your feelings hurt." She informed him with psychological tones. She was really taking this case seriously. Obviously, getting taken off of his case had rattled her. Good. The Joker raised an eyebrow, amused. Something angry sparked its interest in his gut, but he repressed it.

"Really? DoC… you don't seem to, ah, be able to grasP how much of an effect you have on, uh, me." He raised his hands above his head in disbelief, his dark eyes treacherous. "I go through all of the trouble… just to… to get you bacK… and this- this hurts. This cuts me, deeply." The Joker closed his eyes lazily, giving a cackle of laughter that clung to the room like glue. He knew it wasn't the time to laugh, but he could feel the desire rippling along his spine with something akin to the feelings of a seizure. He furiously pounded it down, but stopped himself. His instincts usually were right. If now was the time to laugh, he might as well laugh.

"What?" Harley asked, baffled. She scrutinized him, her blue eyes sharp. She was repressing the shudder of fear she felt as he gave off mixed signals. She had lost the case once already, she wouldn't do it again.

"I- well, I convinced the other doC… to get you back on the, uh, case." The Joker opened his eyes lazily and surveyed her, his face suddenly serious. Harley, on the other hand, was struggling to not let her jaw drop. What was he doing?

"What?" She repeated dumbly. The Joker smiled, but it suddenly seemed strange on him. This man couldn't be the same one from a few moments ago! His entire demeanor had changed. Instead of the insane stare of darkness he usually gave, he seemed like he was trying to say something other than what he was telling her. It was like a whole new person was behind those eyes, screaming at her as lights reflected strangely against his dark eyes.

"I didn't, uh, stut-tt-ter, doc." The Joker smiled a bit bigger, but it was definitely twisted. Harley leaned in, curiosity dragging her foreword, like a magnet. The Joker licked his lips, his face changing expression again.

"Why?" She felt like a robot, repeating similar questions, one after the other, but she couldn't help it. She really wanted to understand. She wanted to get into his head like he had hers, but she didn't know what to say. She had already come to the conclusion that she couldn't try to outwit him, but she had to do something. She could remember her words earlier; she had promised to make it a challenge! But how could she outwit the one who created the game she was trapped in?

"I didn't like her face." The Joker informed her dryly, picking his legs up and propping them up on the table. Harley didn't take her eyes off of him, waiting for the real reason. The Joker chuckled a little at the look on her face. She could tell when he was pulling her leg. "LooK… doc, don't take this, uh, personally. I know how much you wanted to examine the fine, haha, specimen before you. I couldn't fathom… the idea of her taking your job." The Joker smacked his lips and let his eyes bore into her, daring her to contradict him. He didn't twitch or move and Harley found herself staring back, her jaw dropping slightly. She stared at his scars, the twisted, deadened flesh healing now that he hadn't been cutting at it to keep them fresh. She let her gaze roam over his jaw, his chalk-like skin, and strange green hair. Harley couldn't tell what to say. She felt like something strange was happening inside of her, and it took her a moment to realize it was gratitude.

"Th… thank you." She managed to say, clearing her throat slightly. The Joker leaned in closer to her as he let his legs drop off of the table with a dull thud, his murderous eyes boring into hers.

"It was… my pleasure." He replied, his voice coated thick with oil. Harley blinked and shook her head slowly. It was a deadened silence as she tried to figure whether he was serious or not. Then again, The Joker wasn't a serious person, so why did she think he'd mean it? Maybe it was the way he suddenly wasn't smiling as he licked his lips across chapped lips. Why were they chapped anyway? Maybe the paint was sort of like a healing solvent for him.

Her thoughts were swirling around, and she was trying to get them in order. She found that she couldn't get herself under control, though a quick glance at her reflection told her she only looked vaguely agitated.

"Was it really?" She asked, leaning in to stare him down. She couldn't get her train of thoughts right, but one thing was certain. The strange, chaotic way her mind was running was suddenly making her feel very, very sure of herself. _Well, they do say that chaos is order._

"Yes. My little, uh, harlequin , it was." The Joker leaned in as well, placing his chin on his hands as he licked his lips. "I had… a loT of fun… with her. Thanks to, ah, you." Harley blinked and she felt her thoughts suddenly begin swirling around faster, her theories practically screaming at her. Why couldn't she get herself under control? Why was he looking at her like that, his expression still changing as it curled into an almost kind look, the dark shadows around his eyes somehow fading away and making his bright brown eyes stand out. All she could see was him as he leaned foreword a little more. Harley felt herself lean in as well, almost against her will. What was happening to her? Why wasn't she stopping herself?

Why did half of her not give a damn?

The moment was ruined as she saw The Joker suddenly burst into high pitched laughter, his face mocking as he leaned back, grasping his sides tightly as he choked out the cacophony of noise. The jet black eyes reflected no light as he stared into the fluorescent bulbs above, and she could almost hear him wheezing as he snickered. His mouth opened into an O shape, and as he began to quiet down, he randomly rocked back and began shrieking with laughter all over again. It suddenly dawned on her; he couldn't stop laughing. The noise was forced out of him, it wasn't his choice. His back arched as he coughed out the sick noise from between struggling lips.

"Mr. Joker!" She stated loudly, clearing her throat as the noise quieted slightly. He rocked back, licking his lips as he wiped away the tears from his eyes. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Haha… really, why, uh, call me that?" He asked with a smirk. "It seems to me… that it's a mouthful to, ah, say to geT my attention." He took a deep breath, but suddenly choked as he began laughing again. Harley sighed in indignation and leaned back in her chair, recrossing her legs as she waited. She watched as his chest heaved for breath as he swayed back and forth like a lunatic. Her brows furrowed when he choked and spluttered, his obnoxious tones quieting down once again.

"So what would you like-" Harley was cut off as he began laughing again. She felt her blood begin to boil as he mocked her openly, his face obviously amused.

"What would you-" She felt her fingers curl into her palms, watching his grotesque display with growing anger. She could feel it bubbling up and around her, running through her veins and making her heart pound loudly. Her breath came out thick and strong, and her thoughts began spinning faster and faster, practically making her mind reel as she felt herself losing control.

"MISTUH JOKA!" She finally shouted, standing up and slammed her fists onto the table in fury. His laughter abruptly stopped as he stared, shock and amusement clear on his face. There was a dead silence that enveloped the room slowly as they stared at each other, one subject breathing haggardly and angrily, the other observing her with barely concealed surprise, a grin tugging at their lips.

"WhaT… did you call me?" He asked, lowering his gaze to her shaking hands. He could see that she wasn't scared of him at all at this moment. She wasn't shaking from terror; she was shaking from raw, pure anger. When he ignored her, the blatant disregard for her words had her thrown her into a tantrum. Something to log away for later. And then… there was that accent! The girl was an obvious born and bred Jersey flower. The desire to grip her neck between his calloused hands grew. Her death would be a masterpiece.

"I, uh, I said Mister Joker." Her voice was suddenly covered with an average lilting Illinois accent, as easily turned on and off like a light switch. The Joker felt his lips twitch, but the need to know this little story easily overpowered the silly wants.

"A-ta-ta. You, haha, you said… Mistuh… Joka." He grinned widely, exposing his yellowed teeth like a feral wolf. "That would be a, uh, ToTally differenT name. Tell me, little harlequin, were you born and raised in the garden state?" He licked his lips and watched her eyes flood with too many emotions to name. She was trying to come up with an excuse. He grinned and shrugged. "The aCCenT… is too thicK to fake… sorry, baBe." He forced a laugh. After a few moments of silence on her part, she finally shrugged, the white coat enveloping her like a thin blanket.

"Yes." She admitted, the accent slipping into her confession. "I lived there until I was seventeen." Her thoughts were slowing down almost lazily, tranquilly swirling around her psyche in a teasing manner. She felt weary, like she had just run a mile.

"Why did, you, uh, move?" He asked, leaning back. Harley looked down a little more.

"I… I was suspended from school." She was still looking down, suddenly interested in the swirls of finger prints on her hands. The Joker smiled wanly.

"And, uh, why were you suspended?" He asked, prodding her.

"I sent a kid to the hospital. He… I beat him for… because… he… for…" Her voice trailed off as she looked up at him, baby blue eyes scorching. "For calling me insane." Her voice was soft, and he had to strain to hear it. When he did, a large grin broke over his face, and he could feel his scars stretching. She was looking back down, guilt washing over her as she realized what she had just confessed.

The Joker smiled even wider, but in the back of his thoughts, it was alarming to notice that they didn't threaten to break and bleed like they usually would. They were healing too well in this asylum. He would have to rectify that. He longed for blood to run down his face and coat his lips like a second skin.

"Reeeeally now… that's… interesting." He cleared his throat when her head snapped up and a glare was in place.

"I'm not insane, and don't you dare call me anything close to it." She snapped, her fingers curling around her clipboard like a safety device. The Joker smiled; she really was losing it.

"Sweet cheeks, you're nothing close to iT. I thinK… I would know most of all the difference between you… and me. I'm insane… you're noT." He promised, raising his hands. "BuT… if you want to talK like you originally do… by all means, be yourself. I would certainly open uP… to a, uh, unique, real Harley Quinn. If you're being… yourself, than I will too. Deal?" He asked, extending a hand, an eyebrow raised and a smile curving his lips. Harley stared at it, her face torn again. He could see half of her wanting to take his hand, but the other half screamed for sanity. He smiled wider.

"Deal."

* * *

Bruce walked in wearily, his face ashen, his body aching. The house was dark and silent as a grave as he trudged past the foyer and walked down the hall towards the bedroom. Hopefully, she was asleep so he didn't have to explain anything. Hopefully, she was awake so he could.

As he passed the entertainment hall, he heard a loud explosion of noise in the theatre room. Frowning, he turned and picked up his pace against the protests of his muscles, hurrying towards the noise. As he neared the room though, he slowed his pace so he could creep up silently.

The room was dark as he walked in, the only light coming from the large television screen. He could see a rumpled figure sprawled across one of the couches, their position lax, their gaze focused intently on the screen. Looking back at the screen, he saw Kiera Knightly twirling around in a white dress with a stiff necked middle aged guy, her lip curled in distaste as they talked.

"Pride and Prejudice?" He asked softly, walking to the side of the couch and resting lightly on the ledge. As the scene changed, he looked back at her face and noticed that she wasn't even acknowledging that he had spoken. Her eyes remained fixated on the carriage pulling away from the large manor. She didn't even look up at him, nor did her facial expression change.

"Alyss?" He asked, concerned. She didn't even bat an eyelash. Her face remained calm and disinterested as Mr. Collins proposed awkwardly to Elizabeth Bennett. Bruce stretched one hand out to shake her shoulder gently, but when he did she didn't flinch, she didn't look; she didn't do a thing. It was like he wasn't even touching her. It was like he was living in a memory, and a bad one at that. Culpability gnawed at him.

"Look, I'm sorry. I was stressing out. I didn't mean to be gone like that… all day." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Please, just look at me." He pleaded, reaching out for her again. His hands fell dumbly to his sides as she didn't even change her breathing pattern. It was like she was deaf. It was like all she had eyes for was the sobbing Jane as the blond held out a letter saying her love had left.

Turning around, Bruce walked out of the room dejectedly, a stony expression changing his face. He ached, both internally and externally, and the obvious cold anger was just the beginning. He knew he was in for it, but her silence was worse than any words she could have thrown. This was the fourth or fifth time he had left without so much as a goodbye, but the others were different. Words were thrown, apologies were made, but there had been acknowledgement. Just the fact that she was acting like he didn't exist tore a hole right through his resolve. It was like dripping acid on his very being, and with a groan he found himself back in an empty foyer. Well, not empty. There was a sharp clicking noise of heels on marble, and Bruce turned, almost hopeful, but his hope was dashed to jagged rocks when he saw that it was only Sariah, her Asian features bathed in moonlight as she walked past the large window. When she saw him, she stopped, dark eyes burning.

"So, you're back." She commented, gripping a tray of snacks tighter than necessary. Her obsidian eyes burned with a strange fury that shocked Bruce slightly. After The Joker ordeal, he had expected her to be almost _fragile_ but she seemed if anything, stronger. Her love for Alyss had increased, he could tell.

"Yes… this is my home. Home is where the heart is." He mused dejectedly, not feeling up to an argument. Sariah raised an eyebrow, turning her head slightly so that her scar stood out.

"How quaint of you to say." She retorted, stepping up to him. She glared, jet orbs jumping out at him. For a second, he was almost wary of what she would do.

"How so?" He asked, slightly baffled.

"If your home is where the heart is, and you supposedly love Alyss, then it makes me think. Based on the amount of time you spend both with her, or here, it would appear that you've no heart to speak of. Thus, negating such a statement." She sneered. Bruce felt his muscles tense at her words. To accuse him of not loving Alyss made his blood boil.

"I love her." He ground out, fists clenched at his side. Sariah grinned, twisting her lips into a jagged, curved line.

"You've a funny way of showing it." She snarled, pushing past him and sauntering to the theatre room. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take care of my friend."

"Like you did a couple months ago when you sold her out?" He growled, not thinking. His words echoed around the foyer, and he instantly regretted it when he saw her back go rigid, her steps silent as all movement ceased. What was wrong with him!?

"No, not like a couple of months ago. Like I've been doing since then… you know, since you're too busy playing super hero to try to." She replied, her voice wavering. She turned back, and Bruce knew it was coincidence this time that her scar faced him. Sariah's eyes screamed out in pain and he swore he saw her lips quiver, but he couldn't be sure.

"At least I'm trying to fix my mistakes Bruce. Actions speak louder than words, and I'll continue to prove it to her for the rest of my life. More than I can say for you." She was trying to control herself again, and pity overtook him.

"Sariah, I'm-"

"Don't say it." She snapped, getting it together. "Like I'd fall for that over and over like she does. Be glad she actually cares about you, Bruce Wayne. Pretty soon, even that will wear out, and then where will you be? Cold, alone, and playing up a dream that's long burned out and died." With a flick of her long black hair, she was gone, her steps fading out as she drew farther away.

It was no surprise that Bruce found himself standing in the middle of the room, cold and alone, guilt eating him alive.

* * *

Sariah walked into the theater room, her expression one of pain as she set the tray of fattening foods down. Alyss hadn't moved her position from when Sariah had first left to get food, and it made her laugh to see that their expression, "cold as ice" had been taken literally.

"I love Darcy." Alyss commented as Sariah curled up on the couch next to her, passing her the popcorn. Sariah made a noise in the back of her throat.

"Why? He's a complete jerk." Sariah replied, grabbing a cream soda and drinking with gusto. Alyss sighed dreamily, grabbing the ice cream and a spoon. Sariah looked at her friend, pity washing over her at the state she was in. Anger surfaced in her gaze as she once again mentally asked herself why Alyss would let herself keep getting hurt by him.

"I know… but he changes. He wanted to be a better person in her eyes… so he changed the things about himself that made him a jerk. It just gives the impression that things like that can happen." Alyss sighed into her moose tracks ice cream, eyes intent on the screen.

"Yeah, Darcy is the epitome of a hottie, right?" Sariah joked, smiling.

"Right."

* * *

Gordan stood on the top of the roof, his eyes downcast as he waited for either Batman or Robin to show up. He didn't really care which one; he just needed a pair of eyes.

"Cold night for a cigarette break." An amused, younger voice commented, and Gordan laughed.

"That's the least of my worries right now." Gordan mumbled as he turned to face the brightly colored sidekick. The boy seemed in his early twenties, and overly eager. Gordan appreciated him; it meant batman was able to take a break every now and then. Being what he was, he deserved it.

"What's up?" Robin stepped foreword, confidant and curious. The guy would make a good police officer.

"We've got a problem with the brewing of a new mob. A guy by the name of Rafael is poking around things and starting problems. I want him stamped out as soon as possible." Gordan handed a few photos to Robin, who snatched them up with a signature grin.

"I'll see what boss man has to say." He nodded slowly, turning to leave.

"Wait!" Gordan reached a hand out, grabbing the fluttering yellow cape. Robin froze, tense.

"Yes?" There was a moment's hesitancy.

"There's a psychiatrist at Arkham that has some people worried. Can you check her out for me?" Gordan seemed almost embarrassed.

"Sure, what's the name?"

"Harley. Harley Quinn."

"…Is that a joke?"

* * *

_**Day Five**_

Alyss woke up, feeling her body tense from a funny sleeping position. Blinking blearily around, she saw that she was still in the theater room, but someone had turned the TV off and given her a blanket. Knowing Sariah was too lazy to do so, Alyss stopped from stretching when she realized that he had to have come back into the room to do so.

She couldn't believe it. After the way he had treated her, the way she had treated him, he had still come back downstairs to check on her. Anger and comfort battled around her as she struggled to choose which one would come out on top.

It was a battle she knew she'd struggle with for a long, long time.

* * *

Harley jerked awake, panic flooding her system as she fell off of her bed and onto a cold floor. Sweat covered her body, and her breathing was irregular. Jerkily, she dragged herself to her feet and raced to the bathroom mirror, fighting back tears the entire way. As she flicked on the bathroom light, she stared into the reflection, daring it to change. After a few moments, her worry subsided when her face stayed the same tan skin, the same blue eyes, and the same blond hair. No paint adorned her skin, and no funny clothes. She was still Harley.

* * *

Bruce typed busily at his computer as Alfred walked into the cave, a stern set to his jaw.

"Did you sleep, Master Wayne?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Was the curt reply.

"Will you sleep, Master Wayne?" This too, he knew the answer to.

"No."

* * *

The Joker smiled as the medicine wore off, bringing him back to the real world. The same bright lights shone above head, and the same boring cell greeted him, but he felt different. He felt… almost giddy to see his psychiatrist. The signs were there, she was almost ready to change.

It would take a while to make her always obey him, and always follow him, but as long as she trusted him, he was fine. As long as she feared him, he was fine.

Trust, fear? Same thing. She was his, either way.

* * *

_I tried to make it longer_

_The only way I'll know if it's good?_

_That's right, review._

_You know you want to!_


End file.
